


I never wanted to love you

by SweetInsanityWrites (SweetInsanityArts)



Series: music to my ears [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cheesy, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, caring for wounds, geralt is injured and jaskier is worried, pretty much plotless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22227910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetInsanityArts/pseuds/SweetInsanityWrites
Summary: Geralt is the one being taken care off for once bc I am soft for Jaskier being the softest of boys
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: music to my ears [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606753
Comments: 25
Kudos: 552





	I never wanted to love you

> _I never wanted to love you  
>  I never wanted, 'till death do we two part.'  
> Condescend, stay my friend  
> How do I start  
> Not to love you?_

_Jaskier_

The ship was rocking back and forth, the waves crashing around them as the storm waged through the night. Jaskier was leaning his head against the cold glass windows, staring at the horizon. No matter how hard he strained his eyes, he couldnt see any end to the infinite black waters and gray skies. He hoped they’d reach the shore before he became sea sick. _Or worse_ , he thought, _before I run into_ **_him_ ** _again_. If he’d known the White Wolf would be on the damn thing, he would’ve found another adventure to go on. Geralt had made it very clear that he didn’t appreciate the bard’s company, back at the dragon lair, an adventure that felt lifetimes ago now. And yet, Jaskier couldn’t help looking for him, glancing at every dark, shadowy corner, hoping to spot him brooding there. He was sure Geralt had noticed his presence, yet he had chosen not to approach him. It was as if they’d never known each other and even for the experienced bard it was hard to find words for how that made him feel.

Sudden shrieks of terror tore Jaskier from his thoughts. Something was happening outside. He jumped to his feet and raced outside onto the deck, excitement and terror mixing in his chest. Icy wind bit his face, his hair whipped around him madly, making it hard for him to see. Pushing the wild strands out of his eyes, the bard blinked against storm and rain. People were running towards the other end of the ship, the crew yelled instructions to get women and children to safety, the group of mercenaries Jaskier had entertained with his songs the night before had grabbed their swords, looking ready for battle. Eager to find new material for his ballads now that he’d lost his best inspiration, he followed them. At the edge of the ship, snarling dark shapes were crawling out of the wild waters. Drowners. More of them than he’d ever seen, spilling unto the deck like a giant mass of oozing bodies, snarling and growling. 

Everything around him exploded. 

Panicking, the bard hid behind a couple of barrels, unwilling to miss the chance for a good story despite the fear gnawing at his stomach. 

The mercenaries slashed viciously at the monsters but even with five of them they were no match to the sheer mass of attackers. The air filled with the stench of blood and rotten flesh, screams and battle cries. Behind him, Jaskier could still hear the terrified wailing of the other travellers. Half the crew had joined the fighting, while the other barricaded all entries to the inside of the ship. Too late he realized he’d been locked out.

As if on cue, a familiar silhouette dove into the battle, every movement precise and elegant from many decades of practise. Jaskier felt the tugging in his chest, forgetting for a moment the danger he was in. What were the odds they’d both find themselves together in the midst of an adventure again? 

Geralt tore the disgusting creatures off of the mercenaries’ bodies, though two of them already lay unmoving on the ground, another three looked half as dead as they dragged themselves across the wooden planks. More dark shapes crawled out of the sea like rats in the sewers, the trembling pile hiding the fighters from Jaskier’s view. 

Suddenly, a clanging caught his attention and he saw the gleam of a blade as it slid over the floor, away from it’s owner. He recognized the handle. Heart racing, the bard glanced back and forth between the lost sword and the ongoing fight, waiting desperately for the Witcher to appear and grab it, but it seemed he was stuck between slashing claws, unarmed. 

Jaskier got to his feet and ran. His hands were numb from the cold and stung as he forced them to wrap around the handle, holding the sword as he’d seen Geralt do it so many times before. He yelled the Witcher’s name and stormed towards him, clumsily slashing the giant blade into the dark mass. Within seconds, he was surrounded by the stinking bodies, claws raging at his clothes. Geralt was punching and shoving at the beasts with his bare hands, more and more of them jumping him from all sides. His eyes went wide with shock. 

“Jaskier-” his voice got drowned out in the screech of a drowner as the sword slit it’s throat. 

The bard felt his stomach lurch and bit back bile. One of them tore at his shoulder and pain shot through him, the edges of his vision blurring. Blinking though the rain, wind and blood, he made out the Witcher’s yellow eyes and the gleam of armour. He held out the sword to him, feeling another set of claws tear at him. 

Then, he smelled the fire.

***

_Geralt_

A burning sensation and sharp smell woke him. Reluctantly, Geralt blinked against the pale light, trying to make sense of the blurred shapes around him. Moonlight shone through the window above and a oil lamps flickered on the other side of the small room.

Gentle hands were on him, one flat on his chest, steadying him, the other dabbing carefully at his shoulder. A deeper, stronger pain surged through him and for a moment, he felt dizzy all over again. 

“Drink.” A soft voice murmured. “Not as good as your potions but it’ll help.”

Cold glass was put against his lips and he forced himself to swallow the bitter liquid within. His eyes finally focussed on the scene before him, his chest fluttered as Jaskier’s face hovered over him, twisted with a mix of concern and sadness. They were both down to their small clothes, unsurprising after the stench of blood and slime on the ship.

He observed the bard quietly as he cleaned and bandaged tone of many bites and scratches on his body. Jaskier had gotten injured (and cursed) on their joined adventures before and the Witcher had nursed him back to health more than once, but this was a first. He fought his instinct to jump to his feet and run. His skin burned where the soft hands brushed it, but not with pain like the rest of his body. He didn’t want it to stop. 

“What happened?” He asked quietly. 

Jaskier didnt meet his eyes. “The cook tried to burn out the drowners and set the damn ship on fire. The monsters fled, you were out cold. We got on the lifeboats and escaped to the nearest island. We’re in a shitty village, my lute is lost to the sea forever, and I had to give what little coin we both had on us to rent us this lovely room and something to treat our wounds with.” He finished the bandage but his hands lingered on the exposed chest a few moments longer than necessary. Geralt cursed himself for wishing they’d stayed there longer. “I saved your life, by the way, you’re welcome!” 

“What the fuck were you thinking, Jaskier?” 

“You dropped your sword. You were in trouble.” 

“You could’ve died.”

“Why would you care if I had?”

The Witcher flinched at the sharpness in the other’s words. 

The bard glared at him. “You said it yourself. Your biggest wish. Getting rid of me.” 

“You know I didn’t mean it that way.” 

Geralt sat up, feeling every tear in his skin scream in agony, but the guilt clawing at his chest hurt worse. The memory of that day flashed before his eyes, the hurt in Jaskier’s face, the overwhelming loneliness he had felt that night, when he realized he’d sent the only two people who cared about away forever.

Jaskier sighed, shaking his head. “You hurt me, Geralt.” He said quietly. “It’s one thing to get spit at by strangers, I’ve gotten more than used do that, but someone I love -” 

He stopped, uncertainty flickering over his face as if he was wondering if he said to much.

“Someone I love making me feel worthless like that. It really hurt.”

Geralt opened his mouth to reply, but the bard shook his head, holding up his hands. 

“I was always willing to put up with your act, this whole mysterious, broody, cold and distanced thing you do. I was okay with that because I know what kind of man is behind that. But I won’t be your emotional punching bag or your last resort.”

Geralt took a deep breath. He hated how vulnerable he felt, naked and wounded, the other man towering over him, his face reflecting his feelings so clearly. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “You were … a loyal friend and a good companion. What happened with Yen wasn’t your fault. And me being with her …” He shook his head. Being with her had felt right, his feelings for her had felt so real. It hadnt been the warm and calm love he knew he felt for Jaskier, but a burning passion, a desperate need for closeleness, an endless desire for her to know everything about him and for him to know everything about her.  
Now, he couldn’t help wonder if the sorceress had been right and it all been nothing more than a djinn’s curse. It would make sense, at least, if the curse had amplified whatever he had felt before he’d made his last wish. Thinking about it made his head spin.

The bard sat on the edge of the bed, his bare arms so close to Geralt’s he could feel the warmth of his skin.

“It wasn’t the fact that you loved her. Love isn't a finite thing we give to others.” Jaskier said as if he’d heard his friend’s thoughts. “What hurt was the fact you were willing to hurt _my_ feelings for something _she’d_ done. You could’ve talked to me, let me help, let me be there for you. But you just yelled. As if I was nothing more than an annoying sidekick who got in your way.” His voice was quiet, quivering with emotion. 

Being this close was almost physically painful. It took all of Geralt’s self control to not lean into the soft, exposed skin next to him. He wanted nothing more than to hold him and make sure he’d never experience pain again in his life.

“I was angry. You were the only person I had left, the only one willing to truly see me, and I was so afraid you’d hurt me, too, that I was ready to push you away no matter what.” He confessed, the words feeling heavy as he spoke them. “It wasn’t fair. You deserve better.” 

“I never wanted to love you.” Jaskier said shrugged. 

“And yet, here we are.” Geralt murmured.

“Hm.” Jaskier breathed softly, a smile quivering on his lips. “Did I really have to die for you to finally let you drop that cold, uncaring facade?” 

The Witcher reached out his hand, hovering it over Jaskier’s in a silent offer. “I was going to say something, when the Djinn got you.” He confessed. The bard took his hand, his feelings written so openly on his face that it made Geralt’s chest flutter. “I kept telling myself it wouldnt help you and you were gonna make it, but - I was terrified that I’d lose you and the last thing you’d heard me say was an insult.” Geralt went on, as the other man’s thin, gentle fingers caressed the scars on his skin. “I like your music. I like the ballads and I like how happy it makes you when you sing them. I like you.” He drew a deep breath and sighed. “I _love_ you. But you know that, don’t you?”

Jaskier chuckled. “I do. I like hearing you say it though.” 

He moved closer, curling up against Geralt. Bandages covered parts of Jaskier’s back and shoulder. The thought of the cheerful, nimble human being hurt in battle disturbed the Witcher greatly. Almost instinctively, he pulled him into a careful embrace, pressing his lips to the top of his head. Jaskier smelled of water, dried blood and medicine but under all that, there was the warm, familiar scent that reminded him of dandelions, sunshine and dew. It send a wave of affection over him. He really did love the man, irritating as he may be. Jaskier _saw_ _him_ , behind the muscles, the mutations, the armour and the weapons. And it was terrifying but at the same time the best feeling in the world.

“I owe you. For saving my life.” He murmured into the soft brown locks.

Jaskier nodded and raised his head to look at him. “Yeah you do. And for my lute. Don’t forget the lute.” His eyes were glittering with humour. 

“How can I ever repay you, my noble saviour?” Geralt retorted, rolling his eyes.

The bard was quiet for a moment, his staring at him intently. “Kiss me.” He answered.

A shiver ran down Geralt’s spine. “As you wish.” He breathed, his voice suddenly giving in.

He cupped the man’s face in his hand, letting himself get lost in the endless blue of his eyes. Their lips met softly, carefully, as if they were both unsure what was happening. The tenderness with which Jaskier caressed the back of his neck sent another wave of affection through Geralt. He curled his hands into his hair and deepened the kiss, drawing the bard closer. Their almost-naked bodies pressed together, warm and safe. 

The many women whispering tales of the bard’s expertise had not exaggerated. Despite both their injuries and the general unexpectedness of the situation, Jaskier moved confidently, his gentle hands exploring the other man’s body as his tongue traced the shape of his mouth. He curled one leg around Geralt’s hips, making his growing arousal very clear as their groins pressed together. A soft whimper escaped Geralt’s lips and Jaskier pulled back slightly, cocking his head. 

“Is this okay?” He asked softly. “Tell me if I’m going too far.”

Geralt stared at him in surprise. “Of course. Yeah, it’s fine.” 

Jaskier smiled and continued his gentle but eager kisses. His lips left Geralt’s, making him gasp softly, and wandered down his neck and chest, licking and sucking here and there, somehow finding exactly the right spots to make the Witcher twitch under him. Geralt repaid him with deep rumbling moans and gasps. When Jaskier seemed satisfied with his exploration, he returned to Geralt’s lips, giving him a few soft, light kisses before pressing their foreheads together, looking deeply into his eyes as they both tried to steady their breath. 

“Touch me?” Geralt invited him, his own hands playing with the waistband of Jaskier’s underclothes. The bard bit his lip and slowly stripped the Witcher of the last of his clothes, his hands so careful not to touch any of the scratches and bites that it made Geralt’s heart ache and his crotch throb. Nimble hands wrapped around him and began to move with slow, determined strokes. Geralt copied him, doing his best to keep his hands just as tender and gentle. His free hand cupped Jaskier’s face, thumb caressing his cheek and tracing his lips. The unsteady breathing and soft gasps that escaped his lips almost drove Geralt over the edge. He took the other man’s hand, asking him to stop.

“I want you. In me.” Geralt said quietly. “Is that okay?” 

Jaskier’s eyes grew twice their size and he nodded, scrambling to his feet. 

“I suppose we could repurpose this.” He said breathlessly, holding up the flask of oil he had bought to soothe their sore skin with. 

“That will do.” Geralt agreed.

Jaskier climbed back into the small bed, continuing his soft kisses on every inch of skin before he started preparing his partner. 

“Will you be okay?” He asked quietly. “Your back’s pretty torn up, I dont want to hurt you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Geralt smiled. “I heal fast and I dont feel pain as strongly.” He caressed Jaskier’s head and pressed a kiss into the soft hair. 

Still, Jaskier was slow and gentle as he entered Geralt, carefully pressing his body against him. Geralt let him take control, letting himself fall into the warm embrace, the rhythm of their bodies moving together. As their speed picked up and their breathing got heavier, his hand interlaced with Jaskier’s, the other reaching into his hair to keep their lips firmly pressed together. He couldnt tell which one of them came first in the tangle of limbs and flood of kisses and tender words. 

They wiped themselves off roughly, not seeing much point in pretending to be clean amidst the sweat and sea water anyway. When they’d cast aside the cloths, Geralt pulled Jaskier back against his chest, letting his fingertips glide over his back. He could tell the smaller man was close to falling asleep, his eyes half closed as he gazed up at him. 

“I never wanted to love you,” Geralt whispered, “but I am glad that I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope this isnt too much of a mess, ive never written something that doesnt take place in modern times aaand i wrote most of this in the middle of the night in-between working on my art history paper, so i apologize
> 
> check out my art:  
> https://www.instagram.com/sweetinsanityarts/
> 
> (the title is a Falsettos reference for basically no reason other than I had this song stuck in my head)


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